


Voce Caelesti

by NDKiwi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angelic singing, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NDKiwi/pseuds/NDKiwi
Summary: Love comes in many forms and Crowley could tell you the exact millisecond he realized that he was actually in love with Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 170





	Voce Caelesti

**Author's Note:**

> So this one shot comes from a prompt on a list i received from janto321 awhile ago.  
> I did a random number generator and got the following: ‘overhearing roommate singing in the shower to find out they sound angelic’ au’. And if Good Omens wasn't the perfect fandom for that, ill eat my hat.
> 
> The title translates from Latin as “The Celestial Voice”

Crowley could tell you the exact millisecond he realized that he was actually in love with Aziraphale. Some may assume it was when he saw the Angel give his flaming sword to Adam and Eve, or when his huge, glittering angelic wing shielded him the first time. Some may even think it took longer. Like when Aziraphale foolishly risked the guillotine just for some authentic crepes and Crowley sauntered in to save him. All those interested parties wouldn't exactly be wrong. He had loved the cherubic angel in many ways from the moment he laid eyes on him as he slithered through the garden and watched him abandon his post to mingle with Gods new creations. All the little things that made Aziraphale, well, Aziraphale made Crowley love him. His adoration for human foods of all varieties, his unwavering love of humanity no matter what they did, and even the way he wore clothes in the muted palette he knew Crowley's reptilian eyes picked up easiest. The demon had long learned how his eternal companion took his tea and how warm he like to be when he curled up to read one of the millions of books in his shop that he didn’t actually sell. But all of this dear read, never once caused him to fall horns over hooves as much as the day a few weeks after the averted apocalypse that he stopped by the shop and heard singing. 

Now he knew his angel had sung with the celestial chorus and that his voice could stop a raging war if he so desired but Aziraphale had always kept it to himself and Crowley didn’t push. They had a mutual understanding wherein he didn’t ask Aziraphale to sing and the angel didn’t ask him to dance. He knew it was not easy. He knew the angel wanted desperately to dance, something that was usually reserved for the fallen. Crowley wanted to sing for the same reason; because it was taboo. When he was still in heaven the voices drifted across the clouds and through the buildings, making his heart easy and full. It was one of the few things he missed. Everything down below was hard and sharp, so loud and discordant. It hurt just to think about the racket. A shiver dripped down his spine and for a moment he thought he should leave. 

What he was hearing was more intimate than any sex, more revered than any idol. The sound was like the plushest velvet stroking the fur of a panther. It was rich and his body felt almost whole for the first time since his fall. He swallowed and moved up the steps as the song flowed over him, cocooning him in grace and happiness. The words were a bit clearer now but he still couldn’t make them out. He reached the landing and heard the sound of falling water interspersed with the singing and realized Aziraphale must be in the shower. It was a habit he had picked up once indoor plumbing had been invented even when a simple miracle would clean him more so in less time. He had always told Crowley it just felt good. Just outside the door, he recognized the tune and chuckled to himself. “Silly angel.”

Steam puffed out under the door and around its seams and Crowley had his hand on the knob without a thought. He paused only for the briefest of moments before opening the door with a soft creak and stepping inside the humid room, shutting it behind him. The singing stopped the moment the latch clicked back in place and he winced. The feelings seeped from him and into the ether at the absence of the singing.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked with a tinge of panic in his voice. Crowley decided to play it off. That's what he did best after all.

“Of course it’s me, Angel. Or do you get frequent guests wandering your personal quarters at all hours?” Nope. No jealousy in his voice at all. The shower door opened and the trapped steam billowed out. When it all cleared, a miracle no doubt, Aziraphale was wrapped in the fluffiest periwinkle robe, a towel around his hair. His cheeks were pink from the heat and maybe a bit of embarrassment but who could tell the difference.

“You say such naughty things, my boy.” Aziraphale smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners as he moved and opened the door, letting Crowley exit first. “You are the only one that comes here voluntarily and for social calls. Though this is the first time you have fetched me from the shower.” He led the way to the sitting room and found his chair, sighing as he relaxed into it.

“I was going to see if you wanted to grab a bottle of wine and discuss the future.” The demon took a seat, legs spread wide, arm flung over the back of the sofa. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He didn’t mention the singing. He worried Aziraphale would be angry. That it would be he, and not Crowley, that left this time. But the Aziraphale could read Crowley better than anyone else and picked up on the uncertainty.

“Are we going to talk about it or are you going to sulk like when that soccer ball cracked the windscreen of the Bentley in ‘87?” He asked with a sigh.

“Talk. About. What?” Crowley nearly hissed out the words, his defenses starting to build.

“Don’t do this Crowley. You heard me sing. Clearly it had upset you.” The angel furrowed his brow and frowned. “That's why I refused to sing for you. I didn't want to bring up bad memories and hurt you.”

Crowley gaped at him. He blinked rapidly a few times to make sure he had heard him right and flicked his tongue between his lips to get a read of the room. 

“You...you thought that hurt me?” He asked slowly, confusion written on his face.

“Of course. Why else would you be reacting like this?”

“Oh my dear, sweet, idiotic angel.” Crowley let out a half sigh-half laugh. “That didn’t hurt me. It made me feel like I was back home. Like i was part of that world again and that the fall never happened. It made my heart swell to burst and my mind felt free.” He slid from sofa and slunk over, settling on his knees in front of Aziraphale. He looked up at him with lamplike eyes. “You made me feel loved.”

Aziraphales face softened impossibly further and he smiled in a way that he radiated joy. He reached out and cupped Crowley's sharp jaw and bent to kiss his forehead. “My dear. My soft boy. My Crowley, you are loved. So very, very much.”

“I love you, too. My angel. My little piece of heaven. I just have one question. Well two actually.”

“And what would they be?” Aziraphale inquired.

“First, will you sing for me more often? I'll teach you to dance if you do.” Crowley said quickly. Turnabout was fair play after all.

“Of course. Only when we're alone though. Wouldn't want the masses breaking down our door.” He chuckled, the gold of his ring glinted in the sunlight as he ran his fingers through Crowley's flaming hair. He often thought he looked like he belonged in the Weasley family since reading the Harry Potter series. “Now second question.”

“Why, of all the angelic hymns and vast portfolio of music through history, were you singing ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’?”

“Thats easy. Because you inspired Mr. Mercury to write it. So it’s about you.” The blush on Aziraphale’s cheeks couldn’t be attributed to the shower this time.

“Oh. OH!” The realization dawned on Crowley and in that instant he knew that Aziraphale really loved him too. 

“Indeed.” The angels eyes twinkled and he grinned. “Now that you have caught up, I do believe you mentioned wine. There just happens to be an open table at the Criterion. If that works for you.” Crowley just nodded, mutely. Aziraphale stood and went to go change, leaving the dumbfounded demon to sit there on the hearthrug and looking up towards the ceiling.

“You really are amazing.” He whispered to the void.

“I know. Be better.” Came the soft voice whispered in his ear on a puff of air.

“We will, Mother.” And he finally stood. Time to be their own entities. And it seemed they would do it together, just as they had for millenia. “Perhaps Id like to try those crepes you are so fond of Angel!” He called as he headed to find Aziraphale to start their journey into the future.


End file.
